I can’t get my brain to turn off. I was up all night counting sheep, but it was to no avail. While those non-existent farm animals never failed to jump clear of the brown fence, I failed numerous times to fall into the deep sleep my mind craved. Unfortunately, while my eyes may have been closed, my brain remained fiercely awake. Using my own thoughts against me, it had tortured all night.

         I groan internally at the fact that I haven’t gotten a proper night sleep in weeks now. I was getting worried because a lack of sleep could begin to affect my performance at school. Well, that’s what my health teacher said at least, but my parents assured me that it was common among teenagers. While I’d like to trust my own parents I’m still not sure if it is “common among teenagers” makes it any more okay.

Not wanting to stress myself out even more about my terrible sleeping routine I quickly try to think of a distraction. Out of habit, I reach into my nightstand and pull out my trusty old earbuds. The white coloring is more of a musty grey now. Most would probably describe the old coloring as gross, but I found the familiar wear and tear comforting. Years of use have left it in worse shape than me after a rough night’s sleep. The left bud has broken apart completely, but I fixed it with some spare Scotch tape I found in my desk drawer. The sound was a little off now, but that didn’t bother me much. As long as I could hear the music I was fine.

In hindsight, I probably could’ve just asked my parents to buy me a new pair. They probably would’ve bought me one of those fancy new ones all the cool kids have at school. Surely, all I’d had to do was show them my broken buds and I would’ve had a new pair by the end of the day. For some reason though, I just can’t bring myself to ask them. Even if it is for a stupid pair of earbuds.

I plug my headphones in, careful not to damage the already thinning cord. With a satisfying click my home screen lights up and I squint my eyes at the sudden brightness. Turning my bright screen away from me I settle back into the safety of my bed. I make sure I’m perfectly comfortable before bringing the small device back up to my face. I put my earbuds in one at a time. Left then right. I press the sideways triangle that means play and I’m immediately met with the comforting tune of a familiar song. I turn up the volume until it’s so loud the bass thumps in my eardrums. And I keep turning it up until I’m enveloped in the sound of someone else’s story. Someone else’s words that can take me to another place. Away from my thoughts that keep me up at night. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. This is the only way I can get any rest. Even if it’s not really sleeping. 

         Music is the only thing that can drown out the voices.

         I lay like this for quite a while. Past the beautiful sunrise that adorns my room every day at 5:15. Past the breakfast that was thoughtfully laid out for me at 9. Past the homework, I’d promised myself I start at 10. Let’s just say, I was completely content with the idea of ignoring my schedule and spending the rest of the day drowning in bed while listening to music.

         I’m still trying to drown myself in music when my not so young parents waltz into my room like they own the place. Regardless of the fact that they do own the place, I don’t understand why it’s so difficult for them to knock. Especially, because they could be interrupting something really important. Some of us are trying to get some much-needed sleep.

         “Good Morning sweetness,” My mother sings as she and my dad enter the room.

She wastes no time as she swiftly begins tidying some clothes that cover my floor like an extra rug. I notice how neither of them hardly spares me so much as a glance as they walk deeper into my personal space.

         “Time to get up Rip Van Winkle,” My dad jokes more for his sake than mine.

         I grumble incoherently in response while giving them both a death stare from my bed. I want to tell them to leave, but I’m much too tired to utter a sound. I just want to go to sleep. What my parents don’t know is that I’m not Rip Van Winkle in the slightest. I’ve already been up for hours. Long before their sweet dreams of sugar plums ended.

Why do dreams ever end?

Neither of them seems to pay me any mind though. They continue to tidy up my room as if I wasn’t even there. I wonder why they even bother trying to clean. My room looks like a hurricane victim twice over. There’s so much random junk sprawled around I bet it would take weeks just to reach the floor. I’ve come to accept that my room would always be cluttered no matter how many times I tried to clean. I gave up a long time ago.

In my room.

On myself.

My father closes my blush pink curtains and I frown. The shades are now blocking any sunlight my small window was letting in. Immediately, I notice the lack of warmth and pull the blankets even closer to my body. I’m not cold, really. I probably shouldn’t have five blankets on in September. But blankets make me feel safe. Like someone is hugging me or protecting me.

         Maybe I’m just weird like that.

         “Oh, no you don’t,” my father catches me before I can disappear even further into my cave of blankets.

         “Nicole, it’s almost noon! It’s unhealthy to sleep like this,” my mother scolds like the doctor she isn’t.

         I look out from under the covers to see them standing extremely close to me. They both tower over me with their arms folded across their chest. I feel uncomfortable under their judgmental gaze. I silently pray that they’ll just go back to ignoring me. I liked them a lot better when they were cleaning up my room. My gaze lowers to my mother’s foot tapping against the floor rapidly. The motion makes me remember, I still have my earbuds in. I take my buds out knowing they want my full attention. I leisurely lift my head back up to my parents and find them looking at me with expectant expressions.

         “Do you need anything?” I ask tiredly.

         The question comes out harsher than I intended, but the damage is already done. My mother raises a single perfect eyebrow at me and my dad lets out a frustrated sigh.

         “We need you to get out of bed. Come on, it’s getting late,” my dad answers sternly.

         “I’m tired,” I breath out.

         I feel as if I expended all the energy I had into that one sentence. God, all I wanted to do was fall into a nice sleep for a little while. I begin to close my eyes again, but my mother rudely interrupts me.

         “Continuing to sleep will only make you more tired,” she argues with me, pulling the blankets off. “You heard your father. It’s time to stop being lazy and get out of bed.”

         Lying in bed all day was lazy?

         I try to catch the blankets before she can pull it away, but I’m much too slow. Once, the blankets have left me I try curling up in a ball again, but the safe feeling is already gone. Defeated, I groggily sit up in my bed. I blink a couple of times in an attempt to get my vision clear before moving again. After a couple of seconds, the black spots that pepper my eyesight slowly begin to vanish. I swing my legs over the side of my bed and I place my bare feet on the soft carpeted floors. It creaks loudly as I get up and I cringe at the loud sound. I swear everything broken in this house somehow found its way up to my room.

         I blink rapidly and stare at my parents who are once again looking at my room with great interest. They hold their arms up to the walls and furniture as if their measuring them with their limbs. Now, they’re staring at the ceiling and mumbling to each other as if there was something of great importance hidden in this very room. I watch them curiously for a couple of moments.

         I wonder if they ever look at me with such interest.

Now, that I’m fully awake I can finally get a good look at them. My mom is dressed for the club per usual. Her light blonde hair looks like freshly fallen snow against the window lighting. She wears a forest green sundress that swings as she walks. Her silver necklace looks like tiny little stars fell upon her neck. To be honest, I think she looks absolutely beautiful.

Too bad her personality doesn’t match.

My father is dressed in his work clothes. I’m guessing he’s going to the office to get some work done this afternoon. After he’s finished doing whatever it is he’s doing in my room. His midnight-black hair looks like a shadow in contrast to my mother’s light blonde hair. The khakis he always wears remind of a school uniform, but I don’t dare tell him that. I also don’t tell him that sweater vests are no longer in style. Though, I try not to look at his sweater vest too often. Anyone with eyes can see his pot belly threatening to bust out of his shirt. The wrinkles on his hands and face also give way to the gaping age difference between him and my mother. They said love doesn’t care how old you are.

I wonder if love doesn’t care how much money you make too.

My dad catches my stairs and steps back from the window he was measuring as if he just noticed I was there. Never mind the fact that we’d just had a conversation two seconds ago.

“What are you doing?” I question. I had a bad suspicion I won’t like his answer. “Is someone moving in that I’m unaware of?”

To my relief, he shakes his head quickly at my second question.

“Your mother and I were just thinking that this would be a great room for an office when you go off to college,” he explains as if this makes perfect sense.

“Or a yoga room,” my mother chimed in excitedly.

         I ruffle my eyebrows at him in confusion. Why were thinking about me moving out so soon? Last, I checked I still had a lot of time left.

“I’m still sophomore,” I remind him as if this should clear everything up. Maybe he forgot.

“I know,” he says waving his hand like it’s no big deal. “but this is such a nice room and I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Does he think it’s being wasted now?

“Okay,” I drag on the word to allow them to explain further.

An awkward silence falls upon the room making me squirm. My mother clears her throat at my dad, but he’s still glancing around the room. She gently puts her hand my dad’s arm and gives him a pointed look. Finally, taking the hint he coughs uncomfortable and they promptly leave my room.

They hurry out with broad smiles on their faces. Unfazed by the awkward silence we’d just had. They were undoubtedly satisfied with their sneaky endeavor to take measurements of my room. I scoff loudly to myself. They really had no shame.

As soon as they close the door I collapse back down into my bed. Once again, I snake my hand under the crumpled blankets at my feet and put my headphones in. EDM blasts through my ears and I let out a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I try my best to focus on the song and not the thoughts screaming to be heard inside my head. Regrettably, I was too tired to lift the soft blankets back over me. As my breathing slowed I closed my eyes in an attempt to finally get some rest. But once again I find it impossible. 

         The music is still pounding in my eardrums, but it’s not distracting anymore. My thoughts gradually drift back to my parents. I begin to wonder if they really came in to wake me up or if they came in to take measurements for their office. All I wanted to do was sleep and they couldn’t even give me that. I take a slow breath and try to avert my thoughts away from parents. I change the song and turn the volume up even more. But the voices are back.

         You’re lazy.

         I turn the volume up a notch.

         A loser.

         Another notch.

         Even your parents don’t want you.

         Another notch

         They can’t wait until you leave.

         My eardrums are ringing.

         You should just leave.

         A loud sob lurches through my throat and I jump out of bed quickly. I jump up and down like a crazy person in an attempt to shake the evil thoughts from my brain. My eyelids are blinking rapidly, but the tears don’t come. I shouldn’t be surprised. I haven’t cried in a long time.

         I guess I ran out of tears.

         In a last attempt to distract myself I turn on my phone to check if any of my friends have texted me today. Maybe if I have someone to talk to I’ll feel better. I’m met with disappointment as the screen comes up blank. I let out a frustrated sigh.

         No new messages.

I stare at the smiley face wallpaper I’d set the week before. It does absolutely nothing to improve my mood like I’d hoped it would. I can’t even say I was in a mood really. I was actually trying my best not to think or feel anything at the moment. I slowly make my way over to my bed again as if I were in a daze. I pull the blankets tight around my head and lock my eyes shut. My headphones press uncomfortably against my skin and it’s then that I realize I’m still wearing them. I try to listen, but it comes to a point where I no longer hear the music. It’s just my heartbeat slamming back into me.

Over and over.